The Captain and Grumpy Judge
by Ivy Kendall
Summary: A one-shot inspired by the obvious familiarity between Sharon and Judge Grove (affectionally referred to as Grumpy Judge).


"Mind if I join you?"

Sharon looked up from her drink into the face of her old friend. "Well, the Honourable Judge Michael Grove, come to talk at last."

"Don't be like that, Sharon," he chided, sitting down across from her in the booth. "You know how this game is played."

"Yeah," she snorted, twisting her glass around in front of her.

They were sitting in an English styled pub, that was a favourite establishment of ex-pats and the more well-to-do. It was a place she visited when she wanted time alone. Few knew she went there, and even fewer knew why. They wouldn't know the pub reminded her of her grandfather's study, all wood and leather, or her grandmother's voice, with a crisp London accent that still hung in the wind when Sharon was feeling more vulnerable than she liked. It brought the comforts of childhood familiarity.

"You must be glad it's over."

"Mmm... she said absently.

"Your kid did a great job on the stand. My hands were completely tied and he untied them beautifully. I read the letters... why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" she finally looked up, lifting the glass to take a drink at the same time. Her eyes gave a challenge that would have made lesser men whither.

Michael waved the server over and ordered his drink, then an appetizer for them to share. When the server left, he reached over and touched the back of her hand. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Somewhere between too much and not enough. I don't need to be censored right now, so if that's your intention, please leave."

He chuckled, "And they call me grumpy."

Sharon finally smiled faintly at that. "You deserve it."

"I do," he nodded, "but you aren't usually grumpy. You're more a study in ice." That earned him another glare. "Seriously Sharon, I wish I knew about those threatening letters. When Rios first brought them up at trial the other day, I thought they were just aimed at young Mr. Beck. It wouldn't be the first time a witness was threatened. But you... I read the ones aimed at you, and my stomach turned. My god... what you must have been going through. Are you okay?"

Sighing, she lowered her glass, then rubbed her forehead wearily. "Okay is a relative term, Michael. It's a spectrum. Okay compared to what? He's alive. I'm here. The justice system worked this time. The police system worked this time. But we came so close to having it completely fail. I don't think I could go through that again. He almost wasn't on your stand." She sat back, as though trying to get away from the emotion, and finally looked him in the eye.

"This is the part I hate, you know. I had to keep my distance and wait to see everything during the hearing."

"I know," she smiled tentatively. "If it's any consolation, I was very happy you were the trial judge. I knew I couldn't talk to you, but I also knew you wouldn't allow Linda Rothman to railroad Rusty."

"Rothman," he snorted, "and Rios in my courtroom together." He shook his head, "is this what law school is turning out these days?"

"We don't have to like it, Michael, but they are both bright, competent lawyers. Their style might leave a lot to be desired, but their results can't be questioned."

"Style... I remember when this was a gentlemen's game." He shook his head and bent over the table a little further, interlocking his fingers as he pushed them forward.

Sharon laughed for the first time. "Gentlemen's game? Michael it was never a 'gentlemen's game', it was just an old boy's club. And here you are complaining to me, of all people, about two other accomplished women. Really... you should leave now."

Although the words sounded like a threat, the quirk in her lips suggested otherwise. "Fine, fine... but it doesn't mean I have to like them."

"No, you only have to respect them."

"That Rios, she rubbed me the wrong way right from the beginning. But I can tell she's been working with you this past year. You've been rubbing off, thank god. She's got more sense to her. She lets the person come to her rather than going for their jugular. You taught her that. She's learned it well. Take the compliment."

Sharon had been watching him, as she took another drink. "Mmm," she said, putting her glass down. "Thank you. I've notice a great improvement in her as well. She is very bright, you know. I can't have her working regularly with my team, she doesn't have the stomach for what we see, but when the investigations were over, she came through for us more times than not. She will make a very good attorney. Her sense of justice wasn't merely intellectual, it's in her heart, too."

"Maybe..." he grumbled, "but she's got a lot to learn about courtroom etiquette. She still challenges me, like I'm one of her cases."

"My, my," Sharon said sarcastically, "how dare she question the great Judge Grove."

"Knock it off, you vampire."

Sharon truly laughed for the first time, long and hard. When she finally got her breath back, she smiled at her companion. "Thank you... I needed that."

"Not much to laugh at lately, I guess?"

"Nope, not much."

"Who knew, Sharon? Who knew about the letters?" he asked her gently. "When your kid testified, he said he had received threatening letters, but he made no mention of you. I take it you hadn't told him?"

Shaking her head, she looked down sadly. "No, I didn't want to worry him. He found out about the letters the same time you did, and he had a similar reaction. After the emotion of everything died down, he asked me why I hadn't told him. He wasn't satisfied with the 'to keep you safe' reason."

"I wouldn't be either," Michael assured her.

"I couldn't tell him," she shrugged. "He already felt so guilty about his role in everything."

Michael nodded, "I see that a lot. At least tell me your team knew. They seem to be a good set of guys. They were protecting you, weren't they?"

"Yeah, you can say that," she grunted, then hummed, "they were more than protective. I felt perfectly safe, to tell you the truth. I was worried for Rusty, not for myself. It's quite nice to know I have five people who will surround me, guns drawn, and will risk their lives to protect mine. I think it satisfies the princess in me."

Now it was Michael's turn to laugh, "You were never a princess."

"I was at sixteen," she reminded him.

"No, you played the role at sixteen, being the good daughter you were and going along with that debutante thing. But you were never a princess."

"Mmm..." she shrugged.

They sat in companionable silence for awhile, both nibbling at the fried calamari Michael had ordered.

"How's Janet?" she finally asked.

"Good, good," he smiled slightly, "she never asks questions but she knew this trial weighted more on me that usual. If she knew it involved you, she'd have hit the roof."

"She's been a good wife to you, don't knock it."

"Hey," he put up his hands defensively, "I know when I've got it good."

"Makes one of us," she said into her glass.

"Don't go there. Let's leave him out of it, where he belongs. Too much water under that bridge for either of us. I want to talk about the here and the now. When I called your office, they said you'd taken a personal day. I didn't want to call your home. Gavin figured you'd be here."

"You know me well."

"I've known you long, there's a difference. I was talking to Lt. Provenza. He filled me in. Bare feet? The stalker should have left well enough alone. He riled mama bear, and she's a lot more fierce than a police Captain."

Sharon took a deep breath, and this time it came out with a slight sob, "We came so close, Michael... all the protection and it almost ended in Stroh's favour."

"Hey, hey..." he reached across and held her one hand tightly, as the other hand wiped a tear, "it didn't happen. You got the punk."

"I know, and I'm glad about that. Rusty got the letters read into evidence, and that's taken care of, hopefully forever. It's just..." Sharon took another shaky breath, "I just need to feel it a bit, do you know what I mean? I just need to deal with the emotions of it. I can't at home, Rusty's there. I can't at work, they all want to fix it. And I know myself enough to know I can't keep it in anymore. While it was happening, I could file it away, but now it's over."

"I know," Michael squeezed her hand. "Talk to me all you want, or be silent. It's okay. You've certainly been there for me enough times. I texted Janet as soon as I saw you, so she's not expecting me until later. Can I get you another drink?"

Sharon squeezed his hand back. "You're a dear."

"Shh," he said, eyes twinkling, "I've got a reputation to protect. Don't ruin it."

"It's aways been our secret," she smiled. "Seems my lot in life to be surrounded by teddy-bear men with gruff exteriors."

"You complaining?"

"No, not one bit," she smiled, then she held up her glass to get the server's attention and a refill."

"So what's the plan, Captain? You're rarely without one."

"Mmm..." Sharon thought, looking off to the side and into the distance. "Honestly, I don't know, Michael. Rusty still needs so much of me right now. He's raw. The trial brought out a lot of things he had been trying to deny. It's still not over for him. He's up in the middle of the night with horrible nightmares. We did the SIS thing against my better judgement, and now I'm wondering where my judgement is. I don't know that I'm making the right decisions for him."

"Really? Such as...?"

"Well, Lt. Provenza took him down to the morgue without telling me."

"The morgue? Why would he want to go there?"

Sharon sighed again. "Rusty has nightmares," she shrugged. "So Det. Sykes suggested that maybe Rusty needed closer. He needed to see that his stalker truly was dead. Sometimes she unnerves me with how perceptive she is about people. Anyway, she was right. I don't know that I would have allowed it, and yet part of my job is helping families deal with death and grief."

"Did it help?"

"Yeah," she gasped, tears threatening to overpower her again. "I can't help him. Dr. Morales has been available to talk about being gay, but Rusty's not ready."

"It's going to take time, Sharon, you know that. But it will happen. He's a smart kid. He impressed the hell out of me. You just have to let it happen and take care of yourself along the way. There's nothing worse than watching your kid struggle and you can't fix it. It wasn't that many years ago when we were on opposite sides of this conversation."

Sharon smiled and nodded, "I remember. And you're right. So... I better pace myself, I guess. I don't want to add a hangover to the other things I have to deal with at home tomorrow."

"Yeah... we're not twenty anymore."

Laughing, she picked up her menu, "Honey, we aren't fifty anymore."

"Speak for yourself. I'm going to be thirty-nine for the rest of my life."

"Mmm..." she smiled, "if you say so. And Michael..."

"Yeah?" he looked up from his menu.

"Thank you for finding me."


End file.
